When a night has so many parts...

... why do we always think about the things that boil our blood, rather than the events that make us smile? Why is it so easy to dwell on the clouds when there's still some light to indulge in? Maybe it's just me, but I'm suspicious I'm not alone.

A night full of Halloween foolishness turned out fine in the end, and it would be considered a raging success (other than being peppered by moments of inappropriate behaviour) if photographic evidence was the only thing to consider. Regardless, breaking up fights and dealing with people who seem to have a sandbox bully complex leaves a bit of a sour taste. 

In an attempt to indulge the better side of things, my costume was an amazing DIY robot. Awesome. I'll never do it again (Robots are the most impractical costumes in history), but it was fun all the same.

T

The words slip

Fingers drag slowly over palms, the sound they make
Is deafening in its silence
Looks linger, and we're wrapped in the gaze of the other
"Peter Pan said that a kiss is a powerful thing
But these words are similarly powerful things" she said
Filling the uncertain air with the right words
The only true words to be found in the universe at this very moment
Pianos and saxophones and muffled breath would be the only substitutes
For what could be considered real
In the universe.

T